Hi, my name is Ann. I’m almost six years old and I am a typical little girl. Well, not quite in fact, and the story I’m going to tell you will prove it. A love story.
I know, you may say that I am just a little girl. A little girl who knows nothing about love. A little girl who knows nothing of beauty, fate, sins or loneliness. Yes, probably you’re right. Six-year-olds with shiny-fair pigtails usually know more about dolls’ clothing than about these adult things. True. But it doesn’t mean that it has to be like that this time. After all, I don’t think that being an adult makes you know much more about these things anyways. And I dare say that I am pretty much right.
And I dare say that you know nothing about what you’re going to read here, even more so because this is a true story about bad love.